


think of me always

by rcktman



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Coming Out, Death Eaters, Implied Sexual Content, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), One Night Stands, Quidditch, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, Transfiguration (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 07:19:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18516598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rcktman/pseuds/rcktman
Summary: If James Potter is a magnet, Remus Lupin is a planet, and Sirius has been sucked into his gravitational pull.In other words, Sirius Black is hopelessly in love with Remus Lupin.





	think of me always

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically just me writing about my two favorite characters in the world because I’m a sucker for self-indulgence. This took me a super long time to write but I’m so ridiculously proud of it! I hope you love reading it as much as I loved writing it. :)
> 
> (title from “Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy” by Queen)

It’s late July, 1971, and Sirius Black has been sitting on the steps of 12 Grimmauld Place for the past three hours. He’s sure he’ll get the letter. It’s only a matter of time. It wouldn’t make sense if he didn’t get the letter, after all. His family is one of the most well-known pureblood families in England. There’s no way he’s a Squib. He knows he’s being irrational. 

Still, he can’t stop worrying.

He can’t help but worry, though. It would be just his luck if he didn’t get the letter. One more reason for his mother to scream at him. One more reason he’s let down his family. He’s constantly being reminded of how he’s tarnishing the good Black name. 

Regulus opens the door. “Sirius, come inside,” he says. “You’ve already missed lunch. Mum’s furious,”

“Go away, Reg,” Sirius grumbles from his place on the steps. Regulus refuses, grabbing the back of Sirius’s striped shirt and pulling, hard.

Sirius falls back and is about to complain when he sees the silhouette of an owl, its dark wide wings spread across the sky. His mouth goes dry and he points. 

“Reg, look! The owl!” It’s the most excited he’s ever been. He reaches out and lets the envelope drop into his hands as the owl flies nearer. Emerald-green ink shines up at him, reflecting in the sun, his name scrawled on the paper in neat cursive. 

_Mr. S Black, Number 12 Grimmauld Place._

—

It’s the happiest his mother’s been in weeks. She clutches the letter in her manicured fingers and smiles, actually _smiles_ at Sirius. She takes him to Diagon Alley the very next day. The whole time, she can’t stop chattering to Orion about how doubtful she was that Sirius would be powerful enough to get the letter. 

“Not a single sign of magic when he was born, do you remember?” she’s saying to Orion as they traipse into Ollivander’s.

When Sirius’s wand chooses him, he waves it too hard and accidentally sets off a blast so powerful it knocks the old man backwards.

—

When the newness of the letter wears off, everything goes back to normal. His mother screams at him again, and Sirius can only think about how stupid it was to believe that maybe things could be better once that owl came. Sirius keeps the letter on his desk, folded over to make a bookmark of heavy parchment. He spends the rest of the summer locked in his room, avoiding Walburga. He only opens his door when Kreacher knocks, carrying a tray of whatever meal he’s missed. Usually, he leaves the tray untouched on the floor.

Sirius Black boards the Hogwarts Express that September, alone and struggling under the weight of his trunk. A boy with hair almost as dark as his and skin the color of the almond toffee—the kind his father is always so partial to—grins at him from inside a compartment, then slides open the door. 

“Need some help?” he asks, offering his hand. He’s wearing round, thin-framed glasses, and he pulls on the handle of Sirius’s trunk with a smile.

“I’m James. James Potter. Come sit with me?”

James has a certain magnetic quality to him. It’s impossible to say no to him. By the hour’s end, two more students have joined their compartment. There’s Lily Evans, a fiery redheaded girl, and Severus Snape. Snape is greasy-looking and mean and reminds Sirius of his mother in the worst way possible.

They talk about their families in the compartment. James is loud and energetic and trying hard to impress Lily.

“My whole family have been in Slytherin,” Sirius tells him.

“Blimey,” says James, “and I thought you seemed all right!”

Snape frowns at that, making a judgmental sort of noise from the back of his throat. James looks at him expectantly, but he doesn’t say anything. He never does. Sirius thinks he’s a bit of a coward. Not that he’d say that to Snape’s face, though—Sirius is still a little cowardly himself. 

Sirius grins at James. “Maybe I’ll break the tradition. Where are you heading, if you’ve got the choice?”

James mimes holding an invisible sword, slashing it through the air and laughing. “Gryffindor, where dwell the brace at heart! Just like my dad,”

And family traditions be damned, Sirius is pretty sure he would follow James just about anywhere. He’s captivated.

—

When Sirius Black is sorted into Gryffindor instead of Slytherin, he sort of feels like he’s choking. He can’t imagine the sort of bloody murder his mother will scream at him when he goes home for the holidays. He can’t be in Gryffindor. Blacks don’t get sorted into Gryffindor. Blacks are Slytherins, Blacks are pureblooded and elite and strong and most _certainly_ not Gryffindors. 

He sits at the very end of the Gryffindor table, far away from the other students, hoping that if he distances himself enough, maybe it won’t be real. He’s staring at his empty plate when an already-too-tall boy with a rather large scar on his face sits down next to him, so quietly he hardly notices, and gives Sirius a toothy smile. 

“I’m Remus Lupin,” he says, and suddenly Sirius thinks everything might be okay. After all, how can things go wrong when someone like Remus Lupin is smiling at you?

—

If James Potter is a magnet, Remus Lupin is a planet, and Sirius has been sucked into his gravitational pull. 

Remus is so astoundingly _different_ from the other first year boys. He studies and does his schoolwork and pays attention in class. He’s quiet in public, but in their dormitory, when it’s just the four of them, Remus speaks in whispers and makes Sirius laugh so hard his sides hurt. He’s clever, with biting wit, and he always smells a bit like vanilla. 

Sirius Black has never been happier than over the course of his first year at Hogwarts. He finally feels like he’s doing something useful by learning all this magic. Like maybe he can be important someday. Like maybe he can prove his mother wrong. James and Remus and Sirius (and Peter, a small, mousy boy Remus took pity on during the train ride) are out to make a name for themselves at Hogwarts.

But Sirius Black has never felt worse than when he’s facing another summer at Grimmauld Place, and as his first year at Hogwarts draws to a close, he knows he’ll have to go back. He hasn’t got a choice. 

He feels wanted at Hogwarts. He doesn’t want to go back to feeling invisible.

—————

Sirius Black finds Remus almost as soon as he boards the train their second year. Remus looks the same as he always does, grinning, too-big sweater sleeves falling over his hands, but there’s a new scar on his face. Sirius just wants to know where the hell it came from—Merlin forgive him for being concerned about his friend. He never found out the origin of the first one, either, and Remus doesn’t seem too keen to tell him, so they sit in silence in their compartment, waiting for James and Peter to show up.

Sirius feels suffocated, alone in that compartment with Remus. They’re sitting far apart, not looking at each other, but their fingers are touching ever so slightly on the seat, connecting them in a way that grounds Sirius. There are sparks flying through that minuscule bit of skin touching Remus, an electrical current connecting them. 

Still, he doesn’t want to drown in the silence, but he can’t think of anything to say. He sure as hell doesn’t want to talk about his summer. About the way his mother threw a fit when he came home, raging about how he’d been sorted in to Gryffindor instead of Slytherin, how he shouldn’t be spending all his time with those blood-traitor Gryffindors, how he’d let down the family yet again, and _Sirius Orion Black, you look me in the eye when I’m talking to you_ —

How exactly does one make conversation when the only thing they can think to talk about is the way their mother screams?

Lily arrives to their compartment first, trailing Snape, the bloody wanker, and her new friend Marlene McKinnon behind her like a pack of stray puppies. Snape sits in the corner this year, quiet, perched a bit like a vulture on the upholstered train seat. Lily sits down right in between Remus and Sirius, and Sirius frowns at the loss of contact. 

Not long after, Peter and James show up, and Sirius moves to a different seat, farther from Remus.

He can’t help but notice how Remus hasn’t said a word since Lily walked in, and he feels a spark of concern in his chest. 

The Sorting is fine, the feast is delicious, and the speech Dumbledore gives is thoroughly entertaining, but all of it passes by Sirius until he’s laying in his bed, the events of the day playing on an endless loop in his head.

He can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be, and of course he’s thrilled to be back, but he can’t stop thinking about how Remus kept stealing glances at Lily’s friend Marlene in their train compartment. 

And he’s sure it’s nothing, but there’s an odd, out-of-place feeling of jealousy hovering heavy in his chest.

—

Remus Lupin keeps disappearing, and Sirius Black is sure he’s figured out why. 

There’s really no other explanation for it—the scars, the disappearances, the frequent trips to the hospital wing, how he’s _always_ ill around the full moon. Surely Remus Lupin is a werewolf.

“Sirius, I seriously think you might be mad,” James tells him as Sirius presents his findings one night. 

Everyone has left the Gryffindor common room, save for him, James, and Peter, and Sirius is sure he’s right. He’s positive.

“What else could the explanation be?” Sirius insists, growing frantic. Surely they’ll believe him. They’ve got to. There’s no other explanation. 

Peter looks skeptical. “I don’t think that’s why Remus is gone all the time, Sirius. Maybe he’s just got a chronic illness or something. My mum’s got one of those, mind, and it really knocks the life out of you,”

James grins. “Blimey, Peter, that might be the only time you’ve ever used your brain!”

“Shove off, James,” Peter scowls. “I’ve got high marks in Charms,”

“Yeah, and which other classes, exactly?”

“Can you lot shut up?” Sirius snaps. “I’m worried about Lupin!”

James looks stricken. “Well of course you are, mate, we are too,”

“Yeah, and if he was a werewolf, it’s not like we could do anything to help anyway,” Peter adds pointedly.

“Fine. I’m going to bed.” Sirius stands up, mind whirling. “Forgive me for caring about what happens to our friend,”

He storms up the stairs to the dormitory, leaving James and Peter at a loss for words behind him. 

—

Sirius Black knew he was right about Remus. He’s never wrong.

Of course, he doesn’t flaunt that in front of Lupin when he tells the three of them about his lycanthropy, but it’s not hard to shove it right down James and Peter’s throats. 

“I told you, but you didn’t listen to me, because you _never_ listen to me, why would anyone in their right mind listen to what I’ve got to say-“

“All right, you bloody idiot, we get it,” James grumbles

So Sirius suggests becoming Animagi, and at first Lupin vehemently rejects the idea. 

“I don’t want you to get hurt!” he insists. 

“Listen, Remus, mate, we’re gonna do it whether you like it or not, so you’d better just give in,” James replies. 

Sirius has never been prouder to be a part of something.

—————

The summer before their third year, Sirius Black spends most of his time at James’s house. It’s so different, how kind and loving James’s parents are compared to the cold indifference of Walburga and Orion Black.

He feels like he belongs. It’s like he’s at Hogwarts again.

Sirius and James meet in Diagon Alley a week before they’re to board the Hogwarts Express. They spend the day at Zonko’s Joke Shop, spending all their gold on Dungbombs and Nose-Biting Teacups instead of buying their school supplies. Sirius doesn’t mind. It’s the most fun he’s ever had, but he can’t help but feel like something’s missing.

When he and James meet up with Remus and Peter on the train, it feels like coming home. Suddenly he’s safe and sound again. 

He won’t admit to himself that he missed Remus maybe a little too much to be normal. He won’t think about how when Remus smiles, the room lights up. He won’t think about how Remus’s lips look so damned soft and he _definitely_ won’t think about how much he’d maybe like to spend some time finding out just how soft Remus’s lips are.

Sirius is not gay. Blacks are not gay. Blacks are strong-willed, Blacks are Slytherins, Blacks are pureblooded and Black men marry pretty pureblood girls to keep the family line strong. They do not spend much too much time fantasizing about kissing their best friend. 

Sirius Black is not gay, and he is certainly not falling for Remus Lupin. 

—

Sirius Black might be gay.

He can’t stop staring at Remus. He just looks so bloody gorgeous when he sits in front of that big window in the History of Magic classroom and the light hits him just right. It lights up his hair and makes it look like there’s a halo sitting on his head.

But Sirius Black can’t be gay. He can’t, because he’s already such a bloody disappointment. What would his parents say? What would Regulus think?

So he ignores it. Hides it. Because there were bigger things he should be focusing on, like exams and how Remus should help him study, or how he can help with Remus’s furry little problem and _Merlin_ , he just can’t stop thinking about Remus goddamn Lupin.

—————

That summer, he tries everything he can to make himself straight again. Nothing works. He’s desperate and frantic and he can’t help but thinking that something is most definitely wrong with him. He even sneaks out one night, to a Muggle shop near Grimmauld Place, and buys a few Muggle magazines with those posters of half-naked girls sprawled over cars.

He tears one out, one with a Muggle motorbike on it, and sticks it on his wall with a Permanent Sticking Charm, just to piss off Walburga.

He doesn’t really talk to Regulus anymore. Reg stops trying to reach out. He’s changed, anyway. He cares too much about what their parents think. 

Regulus thinks Sirius doesn’t care enough about what their parents think. He says as much, one day, when Sirius is in the kitchen. It’s the first time Sirius has shown his face in weeks, and Regulus comes up to him, misplaced concern written all over his face. 

“Sirius, what happened to you?”

Sirius cuts his eyes to the side. “You’ll need to be more specific than that, Reg,”

Regulus frowns. “It’s like you don’t care at all what anyone thinks of you,”

“Maybe you just care too much,” Sirius counters, opening the pantry door with a bit too much force. The frame rattles, the noise echoing about the kitchen. 

“I just think you’re forgetting what we value as a family,”

“Oh, shove off with that bullshit, Reg,” Sirius grumbles, dropping the apple he was holding and slamming the pantry door shut. He whips around, glaring at his brother. “Fucking family values. You’re turning into _them_!” 

Regulus looks stricken. “I’m not _turning into_ anyone, I’m just trying to help y-“

Sirius shoves past him and up the stairs.

—

Sirius Black has never hated himself more than he does now. It’s his fourth year at Hogwarts, and he feels so goddamn useless. He doesn’t do his homework. He doesn’t study. He doesn’t do anything but lay around the common room, complaining to James.

“It’s like he’s not even the same bloody person, James. It’s like I’m talking to a stranger,”

Sirius is sprawled on the floor, hair spread out like an aura around his head. He’s let it grow out, too long. He likes the way it looks. He loves that it upsets his parents. 

“Y’know, James, Reg used to be my favorite family member, but I think I like Kreacher better now. And Kreacher’s a bloody house elf,”

“Sirius, mate, maybe you just need a girlfriend.” James suggests. “You know, someone to pick up your mood a little,”

Sirius turns to face James, raising his eyebrows.

Remus looks up too. “Just because you’ve been _lusting_ after Evans for the past four years doesn’t mean we’re all looking for love, James,”

Sirius’s stomach drops. He suddenly feels sick. He’d rather not ever have a conversation like this ever again, much less one where Remus swears off romance forever. He moves to stand up, but James shoots him a look and Sirius sinks slowly back down to the ground. 

“Oi, Remus, shut up and finish your homework,” James shoots back, pride damaged. He’s blushing violently at the mention of Lily. 

Remus tosses a quill at James’s face. “This is _your_ homework, you tosser,” he reminds the other boy. “Unless you’d rather do it yourself?”

James rolls his eyes and looks back over to Sirius. “Anyway, Sirius, what I was saying before I was so _rudely_ interrupted was that maybe a distraction would be nice,”

Sirius shakes his head, looks over at Remus. He can practically feel his face set fire just looking at Lupin. “I think I’ve got enough on my plate already, James,”

James shrugs, unbothered, and starts talking to Peter about the upcoming Quidditch game, leaving Sirius alone with his thoughts. He can’t help but stare at Remus, who bends over the essay he’s working on. He tends to bites his lip when he’s concentrating hard, and Sirius can’t stop staring at Remus’s mouth as he worries his lip between his teeth. He fidgets with his quill, looking pensive. 

Suddenly Sirius can’t stand it. He looks away. Maybe James is right. Maybe a girl will take all this nonsense off Sirius’s mind.

It’s not like he’s bad-looking, really, and he’s rather smart, so it shouldn’t be that hard to find a girl who’s willing to help Sirius forget all his problems. 

A Ravenclaw girl, a fifth year, comes up to him at breakfast a few days later. He recognizes her; she’s been eyeing him at the Quidditch matches recently. He hasn’t exactly discouraged it, winking at her and brushing their hands together as they pass in the hallways, though it never really means anything. It can’t, not when a certain werewolf is always occupying his thoughts. 

He’s sitting with his friends, not really eating, just pushing around the food on his plate.

“Hey, Sirius?”

Sirius starts and turns to look at her. She’s pretty, sure, but not really his type—considering Sirius’s type includes one Remus John Lupin and nobody else.

She starts talking, some pointless front about needing help with Transfiguration, and he stands up.

“I can, uh, help you right now,” he mumbles, and she grins. He doesn’t like the look in her eye, but he lets her grab his hand and drag him into a broom closet.

Her mouth is on his before he even really realizes what’s happening, and Sirius lets her rut against him, weaving her fingers through his hair. Sirius is beginning to get used to the length. It doesn’t hurt that Remus has complimented it twice and it’s only November. 

And of course he’s still thinking about bloody Remus. There’s a gorgeous girl pressed up against him and all he can think about is his goddamn best friend.

So he pulls away. Pushes her off him. 

“Wait, I don’t-“ he interrupts. 

She grabs his hands, tries to push their mouths together again. It’s not really _kissing_ , just a smashing of their mouths together. It’s not pleasant. Sirius pushes her away again. Her brow furrows. 

“Sirius, what-“

He shoves past her. Opens the broom closet door. He doesn’t pay attention to where he’s walking, but he finds himself wandering the hallways near the Gryffindor Tower soon enough. There’s too much on his mind. He feels like he’s cracking on the inside. What’s wrong with him? Why can’t he just be bloody _normal_?

Sirius stays in the corridor until he’s sure his lips are no longer red and swollen, but he doesn’t bother to fix his hair. He keeps running his hands through it, making it worse and worse. He can’t help but retrace the patterns that Ravenclaw girl drew into his hair. He hates the traces of her touch that still linger. They feel too much like a betrayal. 

He shoves through the portrait hole, much to the Fat Lady’s chagrin, and he just feels _gross_. He feels weird and guilty and like he’s done something wrong. Like he’s let himself down.

James cheers when he sees Sirius walk in, and Sirius flips him the bird.

Peter laughs from his vantage point on an oversized armchair by the fire. “Sirius got lucky!” he cheers.

“Shut up, the lot of you,” Sirius grumbles, and storms up the stairs.

—

Sirius is laying facedown on his bed. He feels numb. He’s just so fucking _tired_.

Someone opens the door to the dormitory, then closes it quietly. He can hear footsteps approaching his bed. 

“Sirius?”

It’s Remus.

Of course it’s Remus.

“What do you want?” Sirius grumbles, burying his face in his pillow.

“Erm, what was that all about? Downstairs?”

Remus’s voice is laced with concern. Sirius hates it. He hates the pity.

Remus sits down on the foot of Sirius’s bed. “Are you okay?”

And what a heavy question that is. Sirius isn’t sure how to answer. He wants to tell Remus about every single thought that’s been plaguing his mind since last year, but the words won’t come. He can’t seem to speak. He can’t say how he feels so twisted up inside. How he can’t believe he just did that. How he wishes it would’ve been Remus in there with him instead. He can’t say any of it. He can’t let anyone know. 

So he just nods. “‘I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,” he croaks. It’s not convincing, but Remus stands up.

“If you’re sure.”

Sirius Black has never been less sure of anything in his life.

—————

It’s late September, and the Marauders are in their fifth year at Hogwarts. That’s what they’ve decided to call themselves, after much deliberation—“It’s a bloody excellent name!” James protests, while Remus scoffs.

“If our group is gonna have a nickname, shouldn’t we have nicknames too?” Peter suggests.

“Yes!” James lights up. “You’ll be Wormtail, Peter, because you’re a fucking rat,”

Peter frowns. “It’s not like you can control what your Animagus form is!” he protests.

“Oi! Keep your voices down, you lot, we’re not registered,” Sirius hisses. Nobody’s ever in the library (besides the Ravenclaws) but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

James grins. “Well, if Peter’s Wormtail, Remus must be Moony. You know, ‘cause of the full moo-“

“Shut _up_ , James,” Remus hisses. “This is supposed to be a secret,”

James holds up his hands in defense. “Okay, okay! What about me and Sirius, though?”

“Well, you’re a stag and a dog, respectively, so-“

“Prongs and Padfoot!” Sirius cuts in.

“So that’s it? We’re the Marauders?” Remus— _Moony_ —asks.

“Guess so,” James grins. And this is the kind of thing Sirius loves—easy, comfortable conversation with his four favorite people in the world.

It’s not lonely. Not with them. With the Marauders, he doesn’t have to _think_. It’s just so bloody easy. He doesn’t have to talk about how he’s falling apart, or how Regulus is turning more and more into Walburga every day, or how he feels like a stranger in his own goddamn head. 

No. With the Marauders, it’s just easy. 

—

The full moon comes sooner than they expected. It’s hard, and they rush in without a solid plan, but they make it to the Shrieking Shack by the end of the night.

They’re all laying on the floor of the shack, breathing heavy, exhausted. The moon still hung high in the sky, casting a soft white glow through the broken windows of the shack.

Sirius didn’t realize that Remus would be naked once he transformed back. He’s sure his face is still tomato-red from seeing a little too much.

There’s a ratty old blanket covering Remus now, and he’s laying asleep next to the others. Sirius gets up, walks across the creaky floorboards, wincing every time one groans beneath his feet. There’s an ancient grand piano sitting under the window, its keys cracked and caked in dust. Sirius can’t resist, presses his finger to a key. It rings out in the silence, terribly out of tune. 

“Do you play?” Remus asks, voice quiet and hoarse. 

Sirius starts. He didn’t realize anyone else was awake. 

“A bit,” he replies, sitting down on the worn piano bench. There’s a jagged claw mark on the leather-covered seat, and he can’t tear his eyes away from it. “Mum taught Reg and me, when we were younger,”

“Will you play something? For me?”

Remus’s voice is hoarse and tired, and the corners of his mouth are crusted with dried blood. The transformations are brutal. It breaks Sirius to see Remus looking so broken, but he feels better knowing he can finally help.

So he presses his fingers to the keys and he plays. The melody isn’t pretty, it’s clunky and haunting and almost painful to listen to. But it fits, Sirius thinks. A terribly sad song for a terribly sad boy. 

—

They’re sitting in Transfiguration, a double period with the Slytherins and Gryffindors, when Snape says it. It’s been two days since the first transformation, and Remus is still in the hospital wing, scarred and bruised and aching.

“So where’s Lupin?” Snape asks, too casual to be sincere. “Surely perfect prefect Remus isn’t skipping class?”

He’s sitting close enough to James and Sirius that only they can hear. He hisses the words through his teeth, low and quiet and menacing. Like he knows something he shouldn’t.

“Piss off, Snivellus,” James mutters out of the corner of his mouth. Sirius doesn’t say anything, but he tightens his grip on his quill.

McGonnagall is still lecturing the class on their newest topic, Vanishment. 

Snape opens his mouth again, and Sirius can practically feel his hot breath on his neck. “It’s a right shame you can’t Vanish those ugly scars off Lupin’s fa-“

Sirius lunges across the aisle, hands outstretched, reaching for Snape’s throat.

“Say that again, you slimy fucking bastard, you don’t know what I’ll do to you-“

James grabs the crook of Sirius’s arm and pulls him backward. “What the hell, mate?” he hisses under his breath, eyes darting frantically to the front of the room. McGonagall has stopped speaking, staring at Sirius with a stony expression. 

—

“Professor, you have to listen to me, Snape kept spouting off, he was saying all this bullsh-“

“I don’t have to listen to a word you say, Mr. Black,” McGonagall counters, sitting in a high-backed chair behind her desk. “The way you behaved in class today was unacceptable, despite what Mr. Snape may or may not have said.”

That stops Sirius in his tracks.

“But, Professor, you didn’t hear what he said about Mo—about Remus,” he protests weakly. 

“Mr. Black, I frankly couldn’t care less. You are _never_ to attack another student. I expected better from you,”

Sirius opens his mouth to complain yet again, but McGonagall stops him. 

“Detention. Two days, starting Friday. I’m letting you off easy, Mr. Black.”

Sirius shuts his mouth, shoves his wand into his back pocket, and stalks out of the classroom.

—

He’s leaving his second detention when he has the misfortune of running into Snape.

“Serving detention, Black? Pity,”

“Fuck off, Snivellus. You deserved detention too,”

“And yet here I am, scot-free,” Snape taunts. It’s dark, and the only light in the corridor comes from flickering sconces. His face is cast in shadow, making him look more sickly than usual—if such a feat is possible.

“It’s just too bad that valiant effort to defend Lupin only got you in trouble. How does your boyfriend feel about it?” 

Sirius has never wanted to punch anyone in the face more.

“Lupin’s not my boyfriend.” he says coldly.

“Really? You’re always simpering around him, so I just assumed the worst,”

Sirius shoves past Snape. “Leave me alone, Snape,”

He’s almost in the clear, almost to the end of the corridor, when Snape calls after him. 

“So you’re not gonna tell me where Lupin was?”

Like he has the right to know. Like Sirius is just going to tell Snape everything out of the goodness of his heart. 

Suddenly, Sirius is fuming. Snape deserves a good scare, the slimy git.

“What, Snivelly, you really wanna know?”

Snape turns around to face Sirius. He has the nerve to look shocked. Like he didn’t expect Sirius to turn around. 

“Come to the Whomping Willow next full moon.”

—

Sirius doesn’t remember much from the night of the second transformation. It’s really all a blur—him, lying in wait just outside the Shack, waiting for Snape to show; James, screaming himself hoarse after warding Snape off; Peter cowering in the corner until James reared on him, too: _”Why didn’t you bloody say anything, Pete?” “I-James, I had no idea, really!“_ and Sirius, sitting on the goddamn piano bench, looking at Moony laying there unconscious, wondering just how he was supposed to dig himself out of this hole.

—

“Sorry, you told him? You bloody _told him_?”

In the week after the Moony’s second transformation with the Marauders, James has told Remus everything. None of the Marauders speak to Sirius unless they have to. Sirius feels awful. Like he’s less than dirt. 

Sirius pales. Remus is furious, bellowing rage at him like it’s the end of the world. Maybe it is. Sirius is certainly beginning to think it might be. 

He takes a defensive stance. “Merlin, Moony, I’m sorry, but the wanker deserved a scare-“

“I don’t fucking _care_ what you think Snape deserves! He’s gonna tell the whole school! Sirius, do you understand what you’ve done?”

It’s beginning to dawn on Sirius that rushing headfirst into things might not always be the smartest plan. Remus is upset, and it feels like everything is collapsing. 

“Moony, please just listen to m-“

Remus slams a book down on the library table, earning a hiss from the librarian. “Fuck you, Sirius. You should know better.”

—————

_You should know better._

The words hurt coming from Walburga, but they’re still nothing compared to the way Remus says them. It’s summer and he still can’t stop thinking about the way Remus looked when he found out about what Sirius did.

Even if he’s been long since forgiven, the guilt haunts him.

He’s sitting in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place, listening to his mother crow on and on about Regulus.

His father sits at the table beside him.

“Regulus has been saying, Orion, that he’s been reading up on the Death Eaters,” Walburga remarks, practically beaming and her husband. 

“Sorry, Reg is what?” Sirius nearly stabs his hand with the knife he’s holding. 

His mother looks at him with distaste. “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she snaps. “If you were listening, you’d know he’s going to join the Death Eathers. The Dark Lord’s supporters,”

Sirius nearly chokes on his food. He pushes his plate away and rushes past his mother, storming up the stairs to Regulus’s room.

“Reg, you can’t be fucking serious,” he nearly shouts as he pounds on the door.

Orion is quick to follow Sirius up the stairs, a tirade of discipline falling out of his mouth.

“Sirius Orion Black, you can’t treat your mother like that-“

Sirius doesn’t turn around. “Fuck off,”

That stops his father dead in his tracks long enough for Sirius to push his way into Regulus’s room.

“Reg, what the fuck? You’re joining the Death Eaters? You can’t be serious, right?”

Regulus is sitting at his desk and starts at the interruption.

“I’ve made up my mind, Sirius,” he says, but he sounds so tired. So broken.

Sirius hates that he knows the feeling.

“You can’t, Reg! You know how shitty they are! You’ve seen how they treat Muggles, they’re terrible!”

Regulus just stares dejectedly at Sirius. There’s no life left in his eyes. He’s too young, Sirius thinks. Too young to see the things he’s seen.

“You don’t understand,” Regulus offers as a weak rebuttal.

Walburga and Orion burst into the room. Orion is fuming.

“Sirius, you need to apologize to your mother right this instant-“

Sirius pushes Orion away. “Leave me alone,” he says, voice cold. “I’m trying to talk Reg out of the worst decision of his life,”

Regulus stands up. “Stop trying to control me, Sirius,”

“But Reg, you’re better than this!” Sirius insists. “I know you are,”

Their father clears his throat from behind his sons. “Sirius, you’ve toed the line enough these past years, but defending those filthy Muggles is the last straw. I want you out of my house,”

Sirius turns around slowly, the words dousing him like ice water. “What?”

His voice comes out as nothing more than a whisper. The sound is weak and defenseless and Sirius has never despised anything more.

“You heard me. Get out.”

So he packs his trunk and storms out. He spends the rest of the summer with James. He won’t talk about what happened. He can’t.

—

Sixth year, Sirius walks around the castle with a weight on his shoulders that refuses to lift. He feels distant. Planning pranks with the Marauders is one of the few times he really feels _alive_. There’s nothing more thrilling than the adrenaline rush he gets when a plan goes perfectly right.

Other than that, though, he’s just exhausted. He never told anyone about what happened that summer, not even James. He just showed up on the Potter doorstep with a trunk in his hand and a spirit damaged beyond repair, and James didn’t ask questions. 

It’s always been like that with James. They never have to talk. Sirius likes that. He’s not sure he _could_ talk about everything, even he wanted to. It’s just too much. 

He’s sitting in the stands of the last Quidditch game of the season, Peter on one side of him and an empty seat on the other. He pretends he can’t see Regulus on the pitch, warming up with the Slytherin team. It’s like he never even knew his brother. They haven’t spoken since Sirius left. Since Sirius was kicked out. 

Sirius doubts he’ll ever talk to his brother again. 

“Hey, Pete, where’s Moony? Isn’t he supposed to be here?” Sirius bumps his shoulder into Peter’s.

Because he’s always thinking about Moony. Even when he’s supposed to be thinking about James, and the Quidditch match, Remus Lupin is on his mind. 

It doesn’t bloody help that he’s grown just enough to fit those oversized sweaters of his just _perfectly_. His shoulders are broader, and of course he’s taller, because he’s always going to tower over Sirius. 

Peter shrugs. “Maybe he’s still in the Charms classroom. He stayed back to ask Flitwick about an assignment,”

Sirius groans. “I’ll go look for him. James’ll be ticked if Remus doesn’t see the last match of the season,”

So he heads to the castle and pushes open the huge double doors at the entrance. They creak as they open, and the sound rings out clear and loud. It makes Sirius realize just how empty the castle is.

His footsteps echo in the corridors. He makes his way to Flitwick’s room, climbing three flights of moving staircases and nearly forgetting the to skip the trick step at the very top.

You’d think navigating the castle would be easier after nearly six years of practice, but Sirius never could really get the hang of it. 

Sirius pushes open the door of the Charms classroom, expecting to see Remus and Flitwick hunched over some parchment, but instead Remus’s hands fly away from a tangled mess of red-brown hair. Marlene McKinnon’s blushing face peeks out from behind Remus. 

His lips are parted slightly, hair a mess, and his eyes are on fire.

“Sirius?”

Sirius feels like he’s choking.

Somehow he manages to get a few words out. “Sorry, erm, I just wanted to find you, you know? So we could, erm, watch the match, but-“

“Sirius, I-“

Sirius doesn’t stay to hear the end of the sentence. Remus’s voice suddenly hurts, cuts deep, slicing him open and leaving his heart on display. He closes the door, a bit louder than necessary, and walks down to the Quidditch pitch. 

The seat next to Peter stays empty, even when Gryffindor wins the cup. 

—

Sirius Black doesn’t speak to Remus for three days. It hurts too much to look at him. He knows he shouldn’t feel so upset when he hadn’t even made himself an option, but it hurts.

So he self-medicates. He finds the first girl to lay eyes on him and drags her up to the dormitory and when they’re through, he falls back onto his bed, sweaty and tired, but still not sated. He keeps trying, even cornering a Hufflepuff boy a year younger than him, but he’s just left emptier than before. He feels like he’s betraying himself. He feels like he’s betraying Remus.

Only when he’s laying awake in the blackness of the dormitory, long after everyone else has gone to sleep, does he allow himself to snake his hands downward, murmuring Silencing Charms and spelling his curtains shut. He loses himself, fingers tangling in soft linen bedsheets and he’s moaning Remus’s name— _”Fuck, Remus, oh, Moony,”_ —until he can’t take any more. 

—

Every time Sirius looks at Remus it’s like he’s being stabbed in the chest. He can’t stop replaying that moment in his head. It hurts to think about, but he can’t stop—it’s like he’s staring at a train wreck, watching the destruction unfold. 

They’ve been working on a project—a magical map that’ll hold all the secrets they can possibly uncover about Hogwarts Castle.

He’s sitting in the common room, studying with James, when Remus bursts in. It’s late, and the room is deserted, firelight the only source of illumination in the room.

Remus is breathlessly excited, clutching an old bit of parchment. “Go get Pete,” he says. “Now,”

So James rushes upstairs and leaves Sirius to sit in silence next to Remus. He’s too tired to speak. He’s not even sure he _can_ speak—the combination of Remus’s bright, piercing blue eyes staring and him and the multiple masturbatory fantasies he’s starred in over the past few weeks is leaving Sirius tongue-tied. 

Peter’s groggy and delirious and won’t stop complaining that James woke him up when he trudges down the stairs, but not even that can put a damper on Remus’s mood. 

He grins. “So, the map,” he pauses. “Are we _really_ calling it the Marauder’s Map? We’re sticking with that name?”

James grins. “Moony, you know you love the Marauders. It’s the perfect name for the perfect friends,”

“You’re far from perfect, you prat,” Peter grumbles from his spot on the floor. He’s wrapped in a heavy blanket and looks like he’s about to fall asleep again.

Remus rolls his eyes and continues. “Anyway, the map we’re trying to make—I think I figured out a spell that could make it work,”

James nearly falls out of his seat. Suddenly, Peter’s awake too. “Well, don’t keep us waiting, Moony!”

“The Homonculous Charm,” Remus says, voice low. “I was in the Restricted Section, looking through a book on magical crimes, and I found it. It was used in a few cases of stalking and murder,”

Peter’s face drains of color. “Murder? Is this whole thing illegal?”

“No, Pete, the spell’s fine, just don’t go around using it to stalk and then kill women who reject your advances,” James replies.

“Piss off, mate,” Peter mumbles, his face bright red. “I do all right,”

James chuckles. “Yeah? When’s the last time you pulled, mate?”

“At least I’m not a virgin,” Peter snaps back. “Saving myself for my _wedding day_ or whatever bullshit you’re on. You do know Evans is never gonna go for you, right?”

James is about to snap back, lunging across the floor with his hands outstretched and aiming for Peter’s neck, when Sirius interrupts. 

“Enough with the sex talk, lads, Remus has something to tell us,” he says, and sure enough, Remus is nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet, eager to continue. 

Remus barrels on. “All we need to do is cast it and it should track everyone in the castle at any given moment,”

He’s smiling, firelight illuminating his face. He looks gorgeous. 

“Moony, you’re a bloody genius,” Sirius says, nearly a whisper. The moment he says it, he regrets opening his mouth. It feels too intimate, like he’s said something he shouldn’t have in polite company.

He doesn’t take it back, though. 

—————

Sirius Black is terrified.

It’s seventh year; the Marauders’ last year at Hogwarts. Sirius doesn’t want to leave the safety of the castle. He doesn’t want to stray from McGonnagall’s watchful eye. The magical world is growing darker by the minute. He’s terrified of the life he’ll have to live once he leaves the castle.

He hasn’t told the Marauders about what he’s scared of. He can’t. Every time he opens his mouth, a dumb joke or snarky comment falls out instead. 

The others are all focused on schoolwork. Sirius can’t pay attention in his classes. He keeps trying to distract himself. He hasn’t turned in a single homework assignment since the start of the year. Hasn’t even opened his textbooks. 

“N.E.W.T.s are coming up, Sirius. You need to pay attention,” Remus warns.

How the hell is Sirius supposed to focus on studying when he’s so bloody terrified?

Not to mention how fucking gorgeous Remus looks when he’s concentrating. He’s biting his lip, worrying the edge between his teeth, and his brow is furrowed. His head is tilted just enough to show off his killer jawline, because of corse Remus has a bloody gorgeous jawline and Sirius isn’t allowed to spend all of his time leaving hickeys just underneath it. It’s like the universe is just telling Sirius he can go fuck himself.

But Remus has been distant. Sirius writes it off as an intense focus on studying for exams, but they’re ages away—it’s only weeks before the winter holiday. Remus shouldn’t be so far away. 

He’s scratching his quill in an aimless pattern on his parchment instead of taking Transfiguration notes. McGonnagall’s used to be his favorite class, but he hasn’t cared much for academics since Reg joined the fucking Death Eaters.

Merlin, how is Sirius supposed to take notes on bloody Human Transfiguration when Regulus is off doing You-Know-Who’s bidding?

That’s his _brother_. He doesn’t give a shit that they aren’t exactly on speaking terms, he knows his brother isn’t evil. It still hasn’t really registered with Sirius that Regulus is in the bloody Death Eaters. He’s one of them now. 

“Moony, let me see your notes,” Sirius hisses—partly in an attempt to actually learn, but mostly just to get Remus’s attention. Remus, who’s sat next to him, pushes his hand away.

“Leave me alone. Take the notes yourself, prat,” Remus whispers back, just the tiniest bit too loudly. 

McGonagall’s attention snaps to them. “Something you’d like to share, Mr. Lupin? Mr. Black?”

Remus’s entire face reddens. “No, Professor,” he mumbles. He wilts, folds in on himself.

Sirius can feel the class staring at them. Withering, careless glares cutting deep into his skin.

When McGonagall calls them back to stay after class, he’s hardly surprised.

“Now, normally I wouldn’t give a detention just for speaking out of turn in class,” she begins, and Sirius just _knows_ she’s going to give the two a lecture on the importance of academic success in their last year at Hogwarts.

Remus is standing beside him, still as stone and tense. Sirius can feel guilt emanating off of him in waves.

“But especially in your seventh year, classwork should be the top priority,” McGonagall continues, “So I’m assigning you one detention each, served separately. I’ll let you know when.”

They turn to the door. Remus is avoiding Sirius’s gaze. 

The door shuts loudly behind them. The sound rattles around in Sirius’s head. 

“Remus, hey, _Moony_ -“

Remus has already started walking away. His shoulders are hunched and he’s moving quickly, like he wants to get away.

Sirius realizes he may have fucked up.

“Moony, come on, slow down-“

“Piss off, Sirius,” Remus is walking faster now, towards the Gryffindor Tower. Sirius begins to jog to catch up.

“Remus, _please_ -“

They’re running now, the both of them, Remus pulling ahead and turning corners just before Sirius can catch him. They’re in a deserted corridor, with every step moving farther and farther away from the Gryffindor Tower. Sirius thinks that maybe Remus isn’t running back to the common room, but just trying to distance himself from Sirius as much as he can. But Sirius is fast, and Remus is easily winded, especially so soon after a transformation. Sirius catches hold of his sleeve and pulls, hard.

Remus topples over, falling right into Sirius’s arms. They hit the floor, a mess of tangled limbs. Sirius grunts as he hits the cold stone floor, breaking the fall for the both of them.

“What the _hell_ , Pads?”

Remus pushes himself off Sirius, and though they’d only been touching for seconds, Sirius nearly whines at the loss of contact. 

“Moony, I’m sorry-“

“Sure you’re bloody sorry, why don’t you go whine to Dorcas about it-“

“Dorcas? What the hell are you on about?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Remus snaps. He’s angry, but deeper in his eyes Sirius can see hurt. “I know what you’ve been doing with her, Marlene told me all about it,”

Sirius knows what Remus is talking about. It happened a few weeks ago. Sirius couldn’t sleep one night. He wandered down to to the common room, looking a mess. It was about one in the morning. He was exhausted and alert and a little horny at the same time, the worst possible combination of things to be, and Dorcas Meadowes came down the stairs of the girls’ dormitories. He wasn’t in a good place, to put it plainly—he’d just had a dream, one about Remus, that began with rather mind-blowing sex and ended in him being screamed at by his best friend. Something about him being a disgusting freak. Sirius doesn’t remember exactly; he’s been trying to block it from his mind. 

He does remember, though, how he ran his hands all over Dorcas, how their mouths meshed together and he lost himself in her body. 

He still hates himself for it. Can’t look her in the eye. 

Sirius opens his mouth to protest. “But I-“

“I’ve seen you with blokes, too, Sirius,” Remus cuts in. “Were you ever going to tell us?”

Something breaks inside Sirius. He can’t deny it. Can’t hide it anymore. “Blokes? You _know_?”

Remus won’t meet his eyes. “Saw you heading up the Transfiguration corridor last week with Fabian Prewett,” he mutters. “It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

“Remus, I-“ Sirius is at a loss for words. 

“Did you think we weren’t going to accept you?” Suddenly Remus’s voice is soft. He’s leaning back against the wall, not looking directly at Sirius. “I mean, if the Marauders can handle my lycanthropy, I’m sure they’ll be all right with you being a bit, erm, bent,”

The last word is whispered, spoken like it’s a curse. Like it’s something to be ashamed of. Sirius hates it. Hates that he’s hidden for so long. But Remus sounds so hurt, Sirius can’t help but feel guilty.

“I don’t expect you to understand, Moony,” he says, so quiet it’s almost a whisper. 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Remus is looking at him now, green eyes meeting grey ones. Moony’s eyes look so dull, so tired. They make Sirius ache, but he could stare at them forever. He could lose himself in those emerald pools.

“Well, you’re not queer, for one,”

Remus blinks, looks away. He shuffles his shoulders, making himself seem so much smaller. 

Suddenly it hits him all at once, and Sirius can’t breathe. “Moony—you too? You’re bent too?”

Remus smiles, soft. It warms his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I am,”

Sirius can’t breathe. Merlin, is this what dying feels like? 

Remus is suddenly so, so close to Sirius. “For one bloke in particular, actually,” he says. 

Remus’s eyes dart to Sirius’s lips, then back up to his face. Sirius’s jaw nearly hits the floor.

“Me?”

Remus laughs. It’s a gorgeous sound, musical and ringing and golden in Sirius’s ears. “Yes, you bloody idiot, you,”

Sirius grins so wide he thinks his face might split in half. “So that’s why you’ve been avoiding me?”

Remus’s face floods red. “I was worried you wouldn’t—well, I didn’t want to fuck things up. Our friendship, I mean,”

Sirius doesn’t think his smile can get any wider. “Fuck being friends,”

Remus’s smile fades. “What?”

Then Sirius leans in to kiss him and Remus’s mouth tilts up to meet his and oh, _Merlin_ , Sirius never wants to do anything else. Their lips fit together like they’re meant only for each other. Remus pushes his hands through Sirius’s dark hair, resting them at the back of his neck and pulling him in closer. Their bodies are pressed together and Sirius thinks he could stay like this forever. If only he didn’t need to breathe.

They pull away from each other and press their foreheads together. Sirius is breathing heavy, a stupid grin still lingering on his face.

“Moony,” he whispers.

“Pads,” Remus replies. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted that,”

Sirius presses his lips to the corner of Remus’s mouth. “Me too,”

—————

Sirius Black is hopelessly, shamelessly, unabashedly in love with Remus Lupin, and he tells him so at least twice a day. 

They’re reaching the end of their days at Hogwarts. Sirius can’t help but feel a loss for the only home, the only _family_ he’s ever really known, but he’s taking a piece of that home with him. He’ll be reminded of that every time he looks at Remus.

The other two Marauders take it well when Sirius and Remus walk hand in hand down to breakfast. Sirius wants to spend the entire remainder of his life shouting from the Astronomy Tower just how much he adores Remus Lupin, but he figures that subtle kisses in the Great Hall will do. He really can’t get enough of the feeling of Remus’s lips on his. It’s so much better than he ever dreamed it could be. The feeling is almost addictive, an all-consuming passion that Sirius wants to throw himself headfirst into.

There’s a certain warmth to be found within the walls of Hogwarts Castle. It’s an unremarkable thrumming thing, but it lies underneath everything like a heartbeat. It lives in the soft smiles Sirius and Remus share in the greenhouses in their last Herbology lesson. It’s there when James bursts into the Gryffindor common room, elated and dragging Lily in tow. He can feel it when McGonagall’s grip tightens and her eyes cloud when she gives him a handshake at the graduation ceremony. Sirius is so used to that feeling, that sense of belonging, that leaving it will feel like losing a limb. 

But he’s not scared of the future anymore. He figures that whatever he’ll have to face might as well come at him, fists flying. And he’ll strike back, kicking and screaming and fighting like hell. War is brewing on the horizon. He’s sure of it, he’s not stupid—but he’s not scared of where he’s going. Whatever hell comes his way, he’ll face.

He’ll have to, anyway.

And he’ll have Remus Lupin by his side, and really, what more could you ask for?

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot thank you enough for reading this. You’re excellent and I love you.


End file.
